Toothless

They circle their prey slowly, dripping venom.
in their small world they know little but hunger.
Hunger to be right about anything, above others.

But with only deprecating words, have no real thought.
Snarling and snipping puffing up themselfs purposelessly,
they wallow in a mire of their own creation hoping for meaning.

The sad fact is that no one cares or is impressed with their rants
The intended victim cares nothing for what they say and moves on.
Adulthood understands that explaining colors to the blind is a fruitless act.

Honestly, I feel a little bad for Tor. He takes himself so seriously. He doesn't get that someone might come along and give him a poke to see what he's made of; and the only way he knows to react and deal with it is to create the above fantasy for himself.

And he says no one cares, and then he's compelled to write a poem about it?

When someone is this thin-skinned and so easily butt hurt, you just have to back off. There's nothing amusing or entertaining about it.